


fighting the gravity

by horriblekids



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29655090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horriblekids/pseuds/horriblekids
Summary: "Yeah, well, still," Michael goes, "Sorry I kissed you and gave you a deadly space parasite.""Wait, which part," Luke asks, only half-joking. "The kiss part or the parasite part?"
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Luke Hemmings
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	fighting the gravity

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about space a lot lately. The Perseverance rover landed on Mars, they're releasing the Mass Effect Legendary Edition stuff in May, so, yeah, this came out. I am so sorry in advance. Really, so sorry.

The O2 purifier in the airlock hisses steadily. Luke states out the porthole into the vast emptiness, thinking. It would be better if he had shoes on. He hadn't had time in all the commotion, and now he's barefoot and moderately embarrassed and fidgeting in his corner quietly. 

Michael sits across from him, knees drawn up to his chest, also quiet. He's rolled the sleeves of his coveralls up, exposing wiry forearms dappled with fading capacitor burns. He's still wearing the SRV academy cap, backwards, that he uses to keep his hair out of his face. Neither of them have said anything yet. 

A pile of MREs sit between them, bottled water, plastic cutlery. Luke’s not particularly hungry. "Hey," Michael says. "Sorry this ended up being our first date." 

Luke shakes his head, pushes his glasses up his nose. "It's okay. It's not like you planned this, right?" The air is getting hot and stale in the recycler, smelling faintly of exhaust. 

"Yeah, well, still," Michael goes, "Sorry I kissed you and gave you a deadly space parasite." 

"Wait, which part," Luke asks, only half-joking. "The kiss part or the parasite part?" He likes Michael's amused chuckle. He likes that Michael reaches over and kisses him. It would almost be nice if it weren't so awful. 

"I would never regret kissing you, Luke Hemmings."

Luke sighs. He wishes he'd known that before they touched down on 733b; he would've told Michael to stay on the shuttle. Instead, he did the first irresponsible thing he's ever done in his life - instead of staying on the shuttle analyzing core samples like he was supposed to, he let himself be talked into borrowing an XTV and taking it for a joyride. 

It had been so easy to believe nothing bad could happen. Meteorology had cleared them for another planet cycle - they should have had, at the time of Luke's calculations, at least four hours. It had been so easy to be calm about it, then, the headlights of the XTV cutting through the potassium clouds. 

"Hey," Michael says, holding his hand. "It's not your fault. I was the one who talked you into it."

Luke wishes he had his notes with him. He wishes he had something to do, at least, and then he remembers the reason he'd agreed to go planetside in the first place. "Wait, I almost forgot," he says, reaching down into his shirt pocket. "I brought this back for you."

It's a piece of crystallized silicate rain from the surface of HD 189733b in the first place. It's the same seaglass color as Michael's eyes, the mineral smooth and eroded from wind and molten sheets of rain as it cooled. 

"I, uh, it's the same color as your eyes," Luke says. "It rains glass on the surface, and… wow, this seemed like a much cooler idea before." 

Michael kisses the corner of his mouth. "Thank you," he says. "Sorry, again, about the whole parasite thing."

Luke leans his head back against Michael's shoulder. "Maybe we'll be a cautionary tale in a xenogeology textbook ten years from now," he says. "They'll say, 'no kissing cute boys you stole an XTV with until after the decontam shower.'"

"Hey, did you lick it?" Michael asks, grinning like a jack-o'-lantern. 

"What," Luke says, lost. 

"This rock, did you lick it," Michael laughs. 

And Luke scowls at him, only not really, an undercurrent of fondness ruining his cross look. "No, I did not lick it. Geologists don't lick everything, y'know." 

"Is that in a textbook somewhere?" 

His cheeks are beet-red, he knows, as he says, "Okay, maybe we lick the really important things." Michael's pleased little smile makes him want to fold in on himself. 

"Thank you, for this," Michael says, turning the silicate over in his hands. "I just - uh - thank you. For not making me be alone." 

They're both skirting around the subject - and that's always been the way with them, hasn't it? Michael pushing too hard and Luke shrinking away, burying himself in work, all the while wishing he were brave enough or adventurous enough to do something about something. 

Michael's hand is hot in his, feverish. "How are you feeling," Luke asks, twisting to look at him.

"Hurts, kind of," Michael tells him. "Like a really bad fever." He's doing a very good job of hiding the pain in his expression, but Luke can see it in his eyes. "You?" 

"Not yet," Luke says. "Not yet." 

They sit like that, Luke horribly aware of Michael's body temperature like a ticking clock, and then his own as the fever sinks in. Neither of them talk about the crew of the  _ SRV Summer _ , watching them from the control room, faces hidden by the masks of their hazard suits. Luke has been trying not to think about the fact that the mission is burned, that all this will be meaningless. He's been watching for the cruiser lights, but nothing yet. 

He knows the cruiser won't have the go-ahead to approach and scrub the vessel until after they cycle the airlock. He knows the crew is trying to give them as long as possible, hoping for the impossible. 

"Oh, it does hurt," Luke agrees when the nerve pain begins. Michael squeezes his knee grimly. It's like being stung by fire ants - a thousand times worse than that, burning pain jolting him out of himself. As it progresses all he can do is hold onto Michael and try not to scream from it, shaking. 

"I'm here," Michael tells him. "I'm here."

When Luke starts to see things, he figures there's no point in leaving something unsaid. "I loved you, you know," he tells Michael's right shoulder, trying to keep himself from vomiting. Every time he opens his eyes he sees double of everything. 

Michael's fingers are soft on his waist, but they might as well be knives. His nerves misfire, telling him pain when there should be none, telling him danger when he's never felt more safe. 

"I loved you too," Michael goes, and what.

He thinks he says it. "What," it's getting hard to tell sensation from perception from emotion from action, all jumbled and blurred together, as the parasite attacks both of their nerve cells, replicating. 

"I was waiting for you to say something. I," and Michael groans, faces the pain, continues, "I didn't want to assume."

Luke uses what little strength he has left to kiss Michael, full-bodily, and Michael lets out a pleased, strangled, horrible noise and kisses him back. They sit close like that and kiss, whispering nothing words to each other, touching softly and fondly, until the countdown begins.

_ "Two minutes to airlock release," _ the ship's voice announces, the sound echoing in the stale air. 

"It's almost over," Michael tells him. 

"I don't want it to be," Luke says. He's pretty sure he's crying; he can't tell anymore, but Michael wipes Luke's cheeks with his sleeve anyway. He's sweaty and snotty and uncomfortable. 

They help each other stand, legs shaking. They hold onto each other, and the ship says,  _ "One minute to airlock release,"  _ and Michael holds both his hands. "I love you," he says, and Luke can see that he's not scared, and wishes he wasn't either. 

"I love you too," Luke says. He's not crying anymore, at least. 

_ "Thirty seconds to airlock release." _

"Don't let go, okay? Just… don't let go." Michael squeezes his hands tightly. It kind of hurts. Luke squeezes him back, bites his tongue, doesn't scream. 

_ "Ten seconds to airlock release." _

_ "Nine." _

_ "Eight." _

Luke thought he'd feel more scared. He feels mostly indifferent, happy, sad, sick. Michael kisses him again, whispers the last numbers of the countdown against his mouth. "Don't let go," he says again, and then the airlock door is opening, the gust of negative pressure sharp and sudden. 

The last thing is Michael, brilliant and handsome and brave, staring back at him as they die.  _ "I love you," _ he mouths against Luke's skin. Luke is comforted by the knowledge that someday they could be part of the same starstuff, find each other again, even if it's as the tiniest rock on an undiscovered planet galaxies away that no one will ever find. That they have shared the same space and time, and that they will again, and then… 

Nothing. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still sorry. So sorry. I'll be on [Tumblr](http://anxietycalling.tumblr.com) if you need someone to yell at.


End file.
